


In My Veins

by Whoareyou0000



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Bottom Merlin (Merlin), Boys In Love, Caring Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Caring Merlin (Merlin), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Gaius is a BAMF, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic Revealed, Making Out, Merlin is a Little Shit, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Merlin's Neckerchief (Merlin), POV Merlin (Merlin), Pining Arthur, Prince Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Snarky Merlin (Merlin), Snogging, Soft Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Top Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Top Arthur Pendragon/Bottom Merlin (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28676463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoareyou0000/pseuds/Whoareyou0000
Summary: Merlin's greatest secret has been exposed to the man he loves more than life. So, he runs.Arthur's best friend, his everything, is a sorcerer. He stews, stews, and then follows the boy he'd trade an entire kingdom to protect.Because they're in each other's veins and not even magic can change what they are and who they belong to.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 390
Collections: merlin fics i read and haven't been the same since





	In My Veins

Merlin runs. 

His boots make a ragged, clunking sound upon the narrow staircase, bounce against the hollow walls with such intensity that his ears ring with the resulting beating. 

It’s lashes, one after another after another, matching the pounding of his frantic pulse and tearing the skin from his back. The protective barrier sloughs off piece by bloody piece with every ragged breath. His eyes dart back and forth, searching for shelter, safety, before his panic claws its way through his ribcage and into the open. 

It’s life or death, keeping this secret buried deep within, and he’s failed. 

Finally, _finally,_ he dead-ends within four freezing walls. Gaius isn’t there to stop him from rushing up those stairs and curling up on his bed, spent and gasping. He hugs the thin blanket against his chest just in time for the dam to burst. Tears catapult themselves from his eyes and the blanket swallows his choking sobs. 

Because Arthur _knows._

All that’s left to do is wait for the guards to come and lead him to the dungeons. 

For the other servants to build the pyre.

For the flames to consume all that’s left of his broken heart. 

He could run, he thinks, but where would he go? There is nowhere that will erase the image of Arthur’s pained, defeated eyes when they caught him magically stoking that fire. He’s betrayed the one person whom he lives for. Now, there is only death and the pain that comes just before. 

He waits and waits, but the bootsteps never come. It’s only Gaius who pads into the physician’s quarters a few hours later, seemingly calm and unknowing. Merlin curls further into his cot and covers his head with the blanket, his twisting anguish going unnoticed upon the descent of darkness. 

Eventually, he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, there is someone standing in his doorframe. He doesn’t need to look to know who occupies the space. They’ve occupied the same space for nearly two years now, sacrificed for each other countless times. He’s run his hands over those broad shoulders, tightened belts around that muscled waist, placed swords into those capable hands, and laced shirts over that expansive chest. He knows this man, through and through, and now this man knows him too. 

Merlin takes what little courage remains in his gut and nourishes himself until he’s upright, still clutching that blanket around his belly. Arthur leans against the doorframe, Gaius’ snoring lending a daunting backdrop, and slouches in a decidedly unprincely way. The fringe disguises his expression, but his moodiness permeates. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” 

Merlin opens his mouth, searches for the words, and then closes it once again. That answer changes daily. He’s not sure that any of them are correct. Even so, none of them can fix what’s broken between them. What _he’s_ broken. 

Arthur takes a step into the four walls, allowing the door to creak shut behind. They’re locked in a dark cell now, prisoners of their own making. Then, Arthur tightens a naked fist and commands like the king he’s meant to be. 

“Answer me.” 

Merlin backs further into the wall, the courage slowly leaving his bloodstream, and swallows a bitter taste. When he speaks, it’s through an exhale. 

“I don’t know. Maybe, someday. Once you became king.” 

Arthur tilts his head, catching the moon’s warming light. It exposes the prominent curve of his forehead and the zigzagging wrinkles in his knuckles as he rubs aggressively at the bridge of his nose. His eyes squeeze shut, as if he’s channeling all of his strength into not killing Merlin on the spot. 

“That could be years. Decades.” The hand drops and a ravenous glare emerges above flared nostrils. “You’d lie to me for that long?”

Arthur takes another step. Merlin shrinks, his lungs suddenly demanding of air. The tears stab just beneath his lids, searching for escape, and a wave of desperation overcomes any fear that once occupied the space. 

“I didn’t have a choice, did I? You’d have killed me.” He grips the blanket with white knuckles. A tear leaps onto his cheek, salt irritating his already burned skin. The next question is barely a whisper. “Isn’t that why you’re here now?” 

Arthur’s breaths permeate the silence like a fierce wind. Balled fists hit his hips as he takes two more steps forward and towers over Merlin like the citadel does the lower town. He only stops when his knees hit the edge of the bed and then Merlin sees it- the _hurt._ It etches itself upon every crease in the man’s face, powers every movement. All of his instincts to back away vanish, instead replaced with a newfound concern unearthed from a bond settled deep within. When Arthur speaks, Merlin listens like their love depends on it.

“I stood up to my father, went on a suicidal quest, drank poison, and _killed_ for you.” The moonlight reflects the liquid within Arthur’s turquoise eyes. Merlin finds himself transfixed, frozen. “If you honestly believe that I would set you aflame, then clearly I misread our…” 

Arthur chokes on the unspoken word, grimaces, contorts his face as if he’s just tasted the poison all over again. Merlin rises onto his knees, suddenly needs to touch this man whom he’s fallen in love with every day for the last two years. He reaches and Arthur retreats.

The prince shakes his head, rubs at his eyes, and turns. 

“Forget it. Forget all of it. I’ll have you reassigned. We’ll never speak of this again.” 

Merlin’s stomach seizes. A twisted croak forms within and escapes his lips like a long-held sob.

“No!” It’s enough to make Arthur stop in his tracks. Merlin practically stumbles from the bed, dropping the blanket somewhere on the floor, and takes a careful step forward. “You didn’t misread anything, you dollophead.” 

Arthur’s throat bobs, a shaky breath breaks the torturous silence. Then, Merlin finds his words. 

“I was born with magic. I never chose to be this way and I can’t change, no matter how much easier, safer, it would make my life.” He inches forward, his heart hammering into his ribcage. Everything stills. Arthur actually _trembles._ “You have no idea what it’s like, Arthur, having to hide such a massive part of myself. Knowing that if I let my guard down, even for a moment, it’ll be my head.” Another step. Arthur’s shoulders relax. “That isn’t the hardest part, though. No, that’s _you._ ” 

Arthur swivels, his eyebrows raised almost comically. Merlin scoffs. 

“Don’t look at me like that, you prat, you know how I feel for you because I’m rubbish at keeping secrets. You’ve said so yourself.” Arthur’s lips curl upwards. Merlin mirrors the expression, claiming the small space in-between. “I never met anyone who I wanted to tell more, who I trusted more. How could I put you in that position, though? With your father’s beliefs and the laws that you’re tasked to enforce, it wouldn’t have been fair.” 

The floor squeaks at Arthur’s suddenly movement. Now they’re face to face, breathing each other’s air. The prince gains height and purpose, the hurt replaced with something unreadable. 

“Of course!” Arthur laughs, his voice bitter. “That’s our dance, isn’t it? You’re the one at risk of death and yet you’re worried about me. I’d say you’re the dollophead, Merlin, if you think for even a second that I would not have protected you when that’s entirely what I’ve been doing all along.” 

Merlin swears that time stops. Even his heartbeat calms, sated with renewed hope. He gulps a mouthful of air, so sweet with the prince’s scent of spice and sweat, and exhales into a smile. 

Maybe, just maybe, they can fight this out. 

Merlin throws his shoulders back and digs deep for his best retort. 

“No, clotpole, that’s what _I’ve_ been doing all along.” 

The mood lifts. Even the moon comes back out to play. Suddenly, Arthur’s wrinkles ease and he cautiously moves forward. Those lips expand into a hesitant smirk and blue eyes light with mirth. 

“Hardly! I’m the one with the sword and the combat training.” 

Merlin takes another step. They’re nose to nose now, chests meeting with every inhale. It’s so naturally and palpably _them_ that he can’t resist taking another risk. 

“And I’m the one with the magic and the dragon.” 

Arthur grips Merlin’s belt, keeping him in place, and snorts. 

“Lot of good that does you when you’re hiding behind trees.” 

Merlin actually laughs.

“Right. All of those bandits crushed by falling branches. Quite the coincidence.”

Arthur freezes, his head cocked in a challenge. “Did you say dragon?” 

Merlin shrugs, accepts. “Did I?” 

“You’re telling me everything.” Arthur’s hand claims Merlin’s neck so tenderly, warm fingers teasing at the edge of his neckerchief. “First, no more circling each other. I need you, Merlin, and I want you, every part of you. Exactly as you are.” Their noses bump. Arthur asks permission with a parting of his plump lips. “Do you want me?” Merlin licks his own, granting the prince anything. Then he tastes the sweetness of Arthur’s exhale just before their mouths meet in a messy, desperate, altercation. 

It’s not gentle or romantic. It’s _demanding,_ a pot of broth that’s been boiling for an eternity now finally overflowing. Lips and tongues collide and wrestle. Calloused fingers push clothing up and aside to meet soft, intimate skin meant only for certain eyes. Merlin’s thighs hit the edge of the bed and then Arthur is pushing, pinning him down against the mattress, framing his wiry body with muscle and bulk so protective and owning. Merlin spreads his legs willingly and Arthur slots himself in-between as if he’s finally coming home. 

There is still clothing, so much clothing, but their shared heat invades any barrier. Merlin’s body is responding, all of his blood rushing to his groin, and Arthur’s girth is meeting him halfway until they share one strangled moan between their open mouths. 

Then, Gaius’ snuffles in his sleep, causing Arthur to stiffen in all the wrong places. It invades their space and freezes Arthur’s groping hand on Merlin’s thigh, just south of home. He whispers a proposition, his tongue already in the process of tracing the shell of his servant’s ear.

“Mmm, maybe we should move this to a more _discreet_ location. Say, my chambers?” 

Merlin laughs quietly, Arthur’s wispy breath ticking the fragile flesh at his nape. 

“Don’t tell me the big, brave prince is afraid of _Gaius._ ” 

Arthur pulls back to meet Merlin’s jesting stare with his own. “Has he never yelled at you? It happened to me once as a child and I never forgot.” Then his tongue returns to finish its lap around Merlin’s ear and moves down towards his jaw, engraving the next words into the skin. “If he finds out I’m defiling his boy…well I’d much prefer to keep my manhood in one piece.” 

Merlin sighs because Arthur does have a point. He collects himself from the puddle he’s become under the prince’s administrations and trails lazy fingers through Arthur’s messy, sweaty locks.

“Right, suppose I’d prefer you _intact_ as well.” 

Arthur bites Merlin’s earlobe with his teasing smile. 

“Prat!” 

Merlin pulls his hair in retaliation. 

“Idiot!” 

Their usual push and pull follows. Arthur releases his hold just enough for Merlin to squirm through and fight back. The younger pushes up with his knees and the older catches an errant thigh and flips them around. There is an exchange of dominate positions twice before Arthur is back on top and pinning Merlin’s wrists above his head with a triumphant smile. 

“Really must work on your upper body strength, Merlin.” 

Merlin, of course, rolls his eyes. He could throw the prat across the room with a single muttered word. Arthur is probably not ready for that yet, though. Plus, it is, decidedly, much more fun to be underneath this body, that broad chest heaving against his own. He catches his breath enough to sling a witty retort. 

“Right, we should probably go to your chambers before your head gets too big to fit through the door.” 

Arthur looks away, snorts, his princely smile lighting up the entire room. The possessive grip relents, and he drags Merlin up from the cot by his belt. The prince keeps a steady hold on the servant’s wrist as they tip toe from the small room and through the physician’s quarters. They halt abruptly when Gaius lets out a rather strangled snore, Merlin colliding with Arthur’s back and Arthur shoving the servant behind him in a stunted attempt to shield. The physician does not stir though, and Arthur just shakes his head at the grinning boy while dragging him out into the hall. 

Once they reach the torchlit staircase, Merlin flashes a taunting grin and runs. 

This time he’s laughing and dragging a beaming prince in tow.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I just started writing what a panic attack feels like and it developed into a magic reveal. 
> 
> ...I know things are rough out there, so take care of yourselves Merthur fandom. Drop me a review if you feel so inclined because they always make my day. <3...


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